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Some marriages were made in heaven!

Comrade Bob, also known as Robert Mugabe is in the vatican today. There he attends the beatifcation of John Paul II.
One wonders: what could the holy see be thinking to invite the greediest cleptokrat in Afrika to this event?
But really Benedikt and Comrade Bob agree on one thing: Gays are dogs. Perhaps the pope would put it more elegantly. Like: gays are a blight upon the world like pollution, or littering. As he said a few years ago when he likened the gay freedom movement with global pollution.
The casual observer wishes them many hours together when they could tell each other how absolutely disgusted they are. Very christian anyway!

The Tattooed Poets Project: Debbie Kirk

I always like to finish up the Tattooed Poets Project on a strong note, so today's tattooed poet, the last of this year's series, is the heavily-tattooed poet Debbie Kirk.

It also happens to be Debbie's birthday today, as we check out one of her tattoos. More specifically, let's look at the top of her left arm:

This piece, complete with straight razor, brass knuckles and cherry bomb, bears a banner that proclaims "Bow to your elders, you Emo Fucks."

I mean, what more can I say about that?

In discussing which tattoo of Debbie's to use, this exchange took place:

Tattoosday: "I hesitate to use the emo one because of the language and because I'm sure people will not understand why you would get it, but that makes me want to use it more".

Debbie: "its a favorite with peeps...it has been declared the sexiest tattoo ever..."

Tattoosday: "I love tattoos but they are generally so benign nowadays, so it's nice to see one with a true fuck-all attitude."

Debbie: "Yeah, that defines me what you said right there....and why I got the tattoo. I think that single tattoo is the most ME. I can be a bit honest...which is why people like my poetry."

Where'd she get the tattoo? Debbie recalls " I just remember I got it in Venice 5 years ago from a girl who proposed to me when I told her my idea...I still tell that story. I KNEW it was good with that reaction and she was hot."
 
Debbie gave us several poems to choose from, and the one we selected, she says, is very representative of her work:

Little Frankenstein girl

 

Little Frankenstein girl

has the hands of a pianist

And the heart of a broken organ

With thorns, glass

Bats and Indian ink

Seeping thro…

Sewn together

Crookedly stitched

Like a pastel valentine heart

Filled with mismatched parts

Little Frankenstein girl

Has the right brain of a killer

Her right hand is dominant

While her left foot always faces away

Wanting to disconnect

To run

To be free

To not be part of this

Fucked up experiment

Dreamt up by

A genius dressed in rags

And chased by demons

The kind that really scratch and bite

When you are fast asleep

Little Frankenstein girl

Is not a little girl anymore

The curls in her hair

Dreaded up in the sun

Medusa in the wind

Her loud strong voice

Muffled under the stitches

That firmly binds her lips together

Bondage bringing pleasure

Only to those who wish

To keep her silent

(and they are many)

The little Frankenstein girl

Can’t count the stitches on her wrists

From all of those nights

With her right hand doing

What her left foot

Wanted to walk away from

And her not understanding

That she was never really alive

In the first place

Little Frankenstein girl

All mixed up

And

Mix matched

Returning every evening

With fresh wounds to be sewn

From another vain attempt

To be mortal for just a few seconds

Before the fall

Little Frankenstein girl

Stolen parts

Come with stolen lies

Maggots and flies.

The gravedigger, looking to make a buck

Steals her a kiss

The moistness quenches her lips

He promises more kisses tomorrow

She scurries home

Knowing full well

She’s damned to a life of stolen kisses

And malfunctioning hearts

that spit in the moonlight.

~ ~ ~

Debbie Kirk has published 6 chapbooks and been in 12 anthologies and hundreds of print and online zines. She lives in Santa Cruz with her dog Dr. Gonzo.  She has a website she rarely updates at tntkirk.com but she can be best located lurking around Facebook!  Also check out http://tntkirk.com/.

Thanks to Debbie for sharing her tattoo and poetry with us here as we close out the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday. Also, we wish her a very happy birthday today!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Debbie Kirk

I always like to finish up the Tattooed Poets Project on a strong note, so today's tattooed poet, the last of this year's series, is the heavily-tattooed poet Debbie Kirk.

It also happens to be Debbie's birthday today, as we check out one of her tattoos. More specifically, let's look at the top of her left arm:

This piece, complete with straight razor, brass knuckles and cherry bomb, bears a banner that proclaims "Bow to your elders, you Emo Fucks."

I mean, what more can I say about that?

In discussing which tattoo of Debbie's to use, this exchange took place:

Tattoosday: "I hesitate to use the emo one because of the language and because I'm sure people will not understand why you would get it, but that makes me want to use it more".

Debbie: "its a favorite with peeps...it has been declared the sexiest tattoo ever..."

Tattoosday: "I love tattoos but they are generally so benign nowadays, so it's nice to see one with a true fuck-all attitude."

Debbie: "Yeah, that defines me what you said right there....and why I got the tattoo. I think that single tattoo is the most ME. I can be a bit honest...which is why people like my poetry."

Where'd she get the tattoo? Debbie recalls " I just remember I got it in Venice 5 years ago from a girl who proposed to me when I told her my idea...I still tell that story. I KNEW it was good with that reaction and she was hot."
 
Debbie gave us several poems to choose from, and the one we selected, she says, is very representative of her work:

Little Frankenstein girl

 

Little Frankenstein girl

has the hands of a pianist

And the heart of a broken organ

With thorns, glass

Bats and Indian ink

Seeping thro…

Sewn together

Crookedly stitched

Like a pastel valentine heart

Filled with mismatched parts

Little Frankenstein girl

Has the right brain of a killer

Her right hand is dominant

While her left foot always faces away

Wanting to disconnect

To run

To be free

To not be part of this

Fucked up experiment

Dreamt up by

A genius dressed in rags

And chased by demons

The kind that really scratch and bite

When you are fast asleep

Little Frankenstein girl

Is not a little girl anymore

The curls in her hair

Dreaded up in the sun

Medusa in the wind

Her loud strong voice

Muffled under the stitches

That firmly binds her lips together

Bondage bringing pleasure

Only to those who wish

To keep her silent

(and they are many)

The little Frankenstein girl

Can’t count the stitches on her wrists

From all of those nights

With her right hand doing

What her left foot

Wanted to walk away from

And her not understanding

That she was never really alive

In the first place

Little Frankenstein girl

All mixed up

And

Mix matched

Returning every evening

With fresh wounds to be sewn

From another vain attempt

To be mortal for just a few seconds

Before the fall

Little Frankenstein girl

Stolen parts

Come with stolen lies

Maggots and flies.

The gravedigger, looking to make a buck

Steals her a kiss

The moistness quenches her lips

He promises more kisses tomorrow

She scurries home

Knowing full well

She’s damned to a life of stolen kisses

And malfunctioning hearts

that spit in the moonlight.

~ ~ ~

Debbie Kirk has published 6 chapbooks and been in 12 anthologies and hundreds of print and online zines. She lives in Santa Cruz with her dog Dr. Gonzo.  She has a website she rarely updates at tntkirk.com but she can be best located lurking around Facebook!  Also check out http://tntkirk.com/.

Thanks to Debbie for sharing her tattoo and poetry with us here as we close out the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday. Also, we wish her a very happy birthday today!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

emo design 2011

 emo design 2011

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emo design 2011

The culture of death!

So it does appear: the culture of death. Not in the promulgation of condoms. Not in the improvement of access to abortion.
No!
More blatantly.
In order to celebrate the beatification of a dead fellow mammal, the most antiscientific society on earth has opened a grave. The grave of Carol Wojtilwja. This appalling ceremony took place in the Vatican City! A city-state which is no democracy. Its head is a absolutistic Diktator. Benedict XVI. also known as Joseph Ratzinger. It is he who ordered this goulish act of  grave-disturbance.
The corpse is not overly decayed, so they say, further proof of sanctitiy.
Pfahh!
Nauseating gouhlish inquisitveness!
Corpses should lie inviolate from modern interest!
But then, even a capsule of blood of the deceased, taken from him when he was alive, is now declared a sacred relic by this "church".
The previous Pope is now a beatic being. Soon they will say that he is a Saint. A being that shares with their God a sliver of deity!
So much for monotheism!
Certainly the current pope will expect no less from his successor!

The Tattooed Poets Project: Lizzie Wann

Here, on the penultimate day of the Tattooed Poets Project, our contributor is Lizzie Wann:

Lizzie explains:

As I came into my poetic self in college, I knew I wanted a tattoo to symbolize that. My friend, Kevin, designed it for me and I carried it with me for a while. For spring break in 1993 or 1994, I went to Seattle with 4 of my best friends at the time. We happened into a cool tattoo shop and 4 of us got our first tattoos (the 5^th person didn’t want one).It was great because we each got something that symbolized who we were at the moment but also who we hoped to be in the future.

Here's a closer look at this quill and ink bottle tattoo:

Lizzie shared this poem, as well:

Grace

she lives here with me

but she comes & goes as she pleases

never tells me where she’s going

never leaves a note

it’s typical that she’ll come in

just as I’m falling asleep

I catch glimpses of her sometimes

usually when there’s music

we used to be inseparable

I didn’t think she’d ever leave

now, daily happenings of my life

rarely interest her

but sometimes they do

and she’ll spend time with me

when that happens

I remember how good it feels

her company is like an avalanche of

warm towels out of the dryer

I could stay there all day

© 2010 Lizzie Wann

Lizzie Wann started reading at open mics in 1995. She soon became an integral part of the development of the San Diego poetry scene, facilitating workshops at the Writing Center, creating her own readings and producing original shows that featured poets and musicians. She earned a spot on the 1999 Laguna Beach national slam team that competed at the National Poetry Slam in Chicago of that year, and from there, helped make slam poetry become a San Diego fixture. She was on the 2000 San Diego team that went to the West Coast Regionals in Big Sur, served as coach for that same team in 2002, and co-hosted the fledgling San Diego slam, held at the Urban Grind, until 2003. Her work appears on CDs (A Wing & A Prayer and A New Leaf), in chapbooks including Familiars, Naked Wrists, and Complicated Skies and in anthologies including Comstock Review, Incidental Buildings & Accidental Beauty, A Year in Ink, volume 2, So Luminous the Wildflowers, The San Diego Poetry Annual, and Don’t Blame the Ugly Mug.  She also founded the Meeting Grace house concert series which ran from 2000-2008. One of her CD’s can be found at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/lizziewann.

Thanks to Lizzie for sharing her tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Lizzie Wann

Here, on the penultimate day of the Tattooed Poets Project, our contributor is Lizzie Wann:

Lizzie explains:

As I came into my poetic self in college, I knew I wanted a tattoo to symbolize that. My friend, Kevin, designed it for me and I carried it with me for a while. For spring break in 1993 or 1994, I went to Seattle with 4 of my best friends at the time. We happened into a cool tattoo shop and 4 of us got our first tattoos (the 5^th person didn’t want one).It was great because we each got something that symbolized who we were at the moment but also who we hoped to be in the future.

Here's a closer look at this quill and ink bottle tattoo:

Lizzie shared this poem, as well:

Grace

she lives here with me

but she comes & goes as she pleases

never tells me where she’s going

never leaves a note

it’s typical that she’ll come in

just as I’m falling asleep

I catch glimpses of her sometimes

usually when there’s music

we used to be inseparable

I didn’t think she’d ever leave

now, daily happenings of my life

rarely interest her

but sometimes they do

and she’ll spend time with me

when that happens

I remember how good it feels

her company is like an avalanche of

warm towels out of the dryer

I could stay there all day

© 2010 Lizzie Wann

Lizzie Wann started reading at open mics in 1995. She soon became an integral part of the development of the San Diego poetry scene, facilitating workshops at the Writing Center, creating her own readings and producing original shows that featured poets and musicians. She earned a spot on the 1999 Laguna Beach national slam team that competed at the National Poetry Slam in Chicago of that year, and from there, helped make slam poetry become a San Diego fixture. She was on the 2000 San Diego team that went to the West Coast Regionals in Big Sur, served as coach for that same team in 2002, and co-hosted the fledgling San Diego slam, held at the Urban Grind, until 2003. Her work appears on CDs (A Wing & A Prayer and A New Leaf), in chapbooks including Familiars, Naked Wrists, and Complicated Skies and in anthologies including Comstock Review, Incidental Buildings & Accidental Beauty, A Year in Ink, volume 2, So Luminous the Wildflowers, The San Diego Poetry Annual, and Don’t Blame the Ugly Mug.  She also founded the Meeting Grace house concert series which ran from 2000-2008. One of her CD’s can be found at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/lizziewann.

Thanks to Lizzie for sharing her tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Gerry LaFemina

Today's tattooed poet is Gerry LaFemina. Gerry put together a narrative about his ink, which makes my job easier, and gives us a detailed view of his tattoos. Let's see what he has to say:

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

"My first tattoo–I was 19, I was a punk rock kid, and I had been thinking about getting a tattoo for some time.  I had had a dream in which I had a tattoo of a skull and crossbones design in which the skull had peace symbols for eyes.  When I was shaving the next morning, I was surprised I didn’t have the tattoo.  So I called up my friend Melody, whose uncle was Tattoo Ray–one of the best tattooists on Staten Island.  She made the appointment and came with me to her uncle’s house.

            In New York at the time (the mid 1980's), tattooing was still illegal: most tattoo artists worked out of their homes and their clientele was through word of mouth.  Ray was pretty famous–and I have met a number of people over the years on Staten island who had work done by Ray. He was funny, sarcastic, and quick-tongued.  I remember asking him about his needles (this was in the midst of the AIDS epidemic) after all and he asked me right back “How clean is your blood?”

             I liked him immediately.  He did the work.  His niece and I talked.  I just remember being surprised how much the tattoo gun sounded like a dentist drill.  The little whine, the humming buzz.

            My second tattoo: I got my senior year in college.  We found somebody in Westchester who did the work in his suburban neighborhood house.  I remember little of the experience.  The tattoo was not the one I wanted: what I had hoped to get – Tigger with a microphone and a mohawk jumping on his tail – I ended up not being able to afford.  Instead: I went with symmetry – and more pirate stuff: a rose with crossed swords above the left bicep.  In hindsight, this tattoo has held up better than Tigger probably would have....

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

            What lasts though are the tattoos I wanted to get but didn’t: After the rose I wanted to get Charlie Chaplin tattooed on me.  I asked several artist friends of mine to make me a design, and I got a few of them, but none of them “worked.”  And for several years I wanted the logo for my old band tattooed somewhere.  But neither happened.

            So I went with two for a long time: but I often thought about getting new ink.  I wrote.  I taught.  I created a program for young writers in northern Michigan called the Controlled Burn Seminar for Young Writers.  I committed 13 years to that project, and after the tenth seminar, I thought I would get its logo – a lit cherry bomb – tattooed on my right forearm.  The logo was important to me: I believe poetry and all art should be a lit cherry bomb.  It should be a potential explosion.  But it should be fun, too.  I looked into it a few times, but I finally made the decision on a lark a few days after my birthday.  I was walking on Carson Street in Pittsburgh – tattoo parlor row.  I liked the name Flying Monkey Tattoo.  So in I went.

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

            The tattooist was a kid, He could have been one of my students–he was finishing up his apprenticeship and mine was one of his first tattoos.  The seminar after the ink ended up being the last one.  It seemed fitting that the creative writing kids got to see it before the seminar ended.

            And now I’m back to collecting designs: this time, though, I know who’s going to do the tattoos.  The next one will be a Buddha carrying a tattered pirate flag on my back.  These are the two strains of my life.  And I want the MG logo somewhere.  I’ve been driving an MGB for 15 years.  The tattoo is a commitment and the things I am committed too, the things that define me, that continue to define me I want inked on me.  I spend much of my life putting ink on paper.  I think it’s only fitting to have some ink on me, too."

And now, for one of Gerry's poems:
 

Alphabet City

            Avenues A through D, Lower East Side, NYC

After the ambulances left but

before the sun finally rose above Avenue

C, I walked toward Tompkins Square Park where the heroin

dependent rockers slept, addled on benches, while

ex-punks huddled in their leather jackets

for the morning was still damp. One of them called out,

Gerry? What was I to do when I saw her, recognized

her hesitant familiar eyes. How could I have

imagined things would turn out this way when I’d call out her name —

Joanna — those sleepless nights of high school &

kept a photo of her deep into college.

Longing has such a sense of history.

Morning was approaching in its colorful coat.

Not once those months of kissing her, had I wakened beside her, but

oh — I’d wanted to. She was thinner & glanced away when I nodded;

pigeons surrounded her bench but would take off

quickly with the first sudden movement or when the next squad car

revealed itself in flashers & sirens.

So what did I do? What could I do?

The three five dollar bills folded in my pocket, what

use were they to me? I gave them to her, she who’d once been beautiful. How

victorious I’d felt that first time I kissed her.

We didn’t look at each other, nor did we look askance. I thought of the little

xiphoid syringes she might load with that money. This was my sin.

Two young black kids with dreadlocks walked by singing

Zion! Take me back to Zion! & I knew I’d never be saved.

– Gerry LaFemina

from Vanishing Horizon, 2011 Anhinga Press

Gerry LaFemina is the author of seven books of poems, most recently Vanishing Horizon (2011, Anhinga Press) and a collection of short stories.  He directs the Frostburg Center for Creative Writing at Frostburg State University where he also teaches.  He splits his time between Maryland and New York City.

Thanks to Gerry for sharing his tattoos and poetry with us here on Tattoosday!


This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Gerry LaFemina

Today's tattooed poet is Gerry LaFemina. Gerry put together a narrative about his ink, which makes my job easier, and gives us a detailed view of his tattoos. Let's see what he has to say:

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

"My first tattoo–I was 19, I was a punk rock kid, and I had been thinking about getting a tattoo for some time.  I had had a dream in which I had a tattoo of a skull and crossbones design in which the skull had peace symbols for eyes.  When I was shaving the next morning, I was surprised I didn’t have the tattoo.  So I called up my friend Melody, whose uncle was Tattoo Ray–one of the best tattooists on Staten Island.  She made the appointment and came with me to her uncle’s house.

            In New York at the time (the mid 1980's), tattooing was still illegal: most tattoo artists worked out of their homes and their clientele was through word of mouth.  Ray was pretty famous–and I have met a number of people over the years on Staten island who had work done by Ray. He was funny, sarcastic, and quick-tongued.  I remember asking him about his needles (this was in the midst of the AIDS epidemic) after all and he asked me right back “How clean is your blood?”

             I liked him immediately.  He did the work.  His niece and I talked.  I just remember being surprised how much the tattoo gun sounded like a dentist drill.  The little whine, the humming buzz.

            My second tattoo: I got my senior year in college.  We found somebody in Westchester who did the work in his suburban neighborhood house.  I remember little of the experience.  The tattoo was not the one I wanted: what I had hoped to get – Tigger with a microphone and a mohawk jumping on his tail – I ended up not being able to afford.  Instead: I went with symmetry – and more pirate stuff: a rose with crossed swords above the left bicep.  In hindsight, this tattoo has held up better than Tigger probably would have....

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

            What lasts though are the tattoos I wanted to get but didn’t: After the rose I wanted to get Charlie Chaplin tattooed on me.  I asked several artist friends of mine to make me a design, and I got a few of them, but none of them “worked.”  And for several years I wanted the logo for my old band tattooed somewhere.  But neither happened.

            So I went with two for a long time: but I often thought about getting new ink.  I wrote.  I taught.  I created a program for young writers in northern Michigan called the Controlled Burn Seminar for Young Writers.  I committed 13 years to that project, and after the tenth seminar, I thought I would get its logo – a lit cherry bomb – tattooed on my right forearm.  The logo was important to me: I believe poetry and all art should be a lit cherry bomb.  It should be a potential explosion.  But it should be fun, too.  I looked into it a few times, but I finally made the decision on a lark a few days after my birthday.  I was walking on Carson Street in Pittsburgh – tattoo parlor row.  I liked the name Flying Monkey Tattoo.  So in I went.

Photo by Joy Gaines-Friedler

            The tattooist was a kid, He could have been one of my students–he was finishing up his apprenticeship and mine was one of his first tattoos.  The seminar after the ink ended up being the last one.  It seemed fitting that the creative writing kids got to see it before the seminar ended.

            And now I’m back to collecting designs: this time, though, I know who’s going to do the tattoos.  The next one will be a Buddha carrying a tattered pirate flag on my back.  These are the two strains of my life.  And I want the MG logo somewhere.  I’ve been driving an MGB for 15 years.  The tattoo is a commitment and the things I am committed too, the things that define me, that continue to define me I want inked on me.  I spend much of my life putting ink on paper.  I think it’s only fitting to have some ink on me, too."

And now, for one of Gerry's poems:
 

Alphabet City

            Avenues A through D, Lower East Side, NYC

After the ambulances left but

before the sun finally rose above Avenue

C, I walked toward Tompkins Square Park where the heroin

dependent rockers slept, addled on benches, while

ex-punks huddled in their leather jackets

for the morning was still damp. One of them called out,

Gerry? What was I to do when I saw her, recognized

her hesitant familiar eyes. How could I have

imagined things would turn out this way when I’d call out her name —

Joanna — those sleepless nights of high school &

kept a photo of her deep into college.

Longing has such a sense of history.

Morning was approaching in its colorful coat.

Not once those months of kissing her, had I wakened beside her, but

oh — I’d wanted to. She was thinner & glanced away when I nodded;

pigeons surrounded her bench but would take off

quickly with the first sudden movement or when the next squad car

revealed itself in flashers & sirens.

So what did I do? What could I do?

The three five dollar bills folded in my pocket, what

use were they to me? I gave them to her, she who’d once been beautiful. How

victorious I’d felt that first time I kissed her.

We didn’t look at each other, nor did we look askance. I thought of the little

xiphoid syringes she might load with that money. This was my sin.

Two young black kids with dreadlocks walked by singing

Zion! Take me back to Zion! & I knew I’d never be saved.

– Gerry LaFemina

from Vanishing Horizon, 2011 Anhinga Press

Gerry LaFemina is the author of seven books of poems, most recently Vanishing Horizon (2011, Anhinga Press) and a collection of short stories.  He directs the Frostburg Center for Creative Writing at Frostburg State University where he also teaches.  He splits his time between Maryland and New York City.

Thanks to Gerry for sharing his tattoos and poetry with us here on Tattoosday!


This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: David Jonathan Newman

Today's tattooed poet is David Jonathan Newman, who sent along this photo:

Dave explains:

"The tattoo is fairly literal; the state of Florida is burning, with the words "Til The Bitter End" aside it.  I moved to Miami for 4 years to pursue a relationship, and saw it out to its unfortunate conclusion.  The tattoo is born out of that experience, and I got it to help me put a finishing stamp on what happened there and what brought me back to Long Island.  None of us are perfect, but we can become stronger people if we have reminders of our mistakes and put them to good use to make sure they don't happen again.  This piece, along with most of the work on my body, was done by Chris Koutsis of Da Vinci Tattoo Studio in Wantagh NY.  I told him exactly what I had in mind, and between my ideas and his talents I was very happy with the outcome."

The following is my favorite of the several poems David sent me to choose from:

hello, atmosphere.

I keep the eyes of a rapist in a jar by my bed
walk lightly
for that part of the room is glass
modern-day sorcerer, am I
blueprints and otherworldly photographs in my drawers
beakers and tubes filled with dust
the cold makes it feel like home
and when the mirror talks to me, it only says
"I will wrap you in a sheet before this night is done."
well so says you, my sweet, but look what you've become
all my furniture, ghosts
rooms rife with other lives
no doors
my paintings are stolen from churches and are hanging backwards and are numbered one to infinity.

~ ~ ~

David Jonathan Newman has been a poet and vocalist/lyricist in bands, both on Long Island, NY and in Miami, FL.  He currently is working on a collection of poetry, writes music as a solo artist and has a blog (http://captainselfdestruct.blogspot.com) where he posts both his solid works and stream of consciousness ideas.  He's been winning poetry contests since 6th grade, and the poem above, "Hello, Atmosphere" won a writing contest at the SUNY College Of Old Westbury which was featured in Harmonia, their on-campus writing publication.

Thanks to David for sharing his tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: David Jonathan Newman

Today's tattooed poet is David Jonathan Newman, who sent along this photo:

Dave explains:

"The tattoo is fairly literal; the state of Florida is burning, with the words "Til The Bitter End" aside it.  I moved to Miami for 4 years to pursue a relationship, and saw it out to its unfortunate conclusion.  The tattoo is born out of that experience, and I got it to help me put a finishing stamp on what happened there and what brought me back to Long Island.  None of us are perfect, but we can become stronger people if we have reminders of our mistakes and put them to good use to make sure they don't happen again.  This piece, along with most of the work on my body, was done by Chris Koutsis of Da Vinci Tattoo Studio in Wantagh NY.  I told him exactly what I had in mind, and between my ideas and his talents I was very happy with the outcome."

The following is my favorite of the several poems David sent me to choose from:

hello, atmosphere.

I keep the eyes of a rapist in a jar by my bed
walk lightly
for that part of the room is glass
modern-day sorcerer, am I
blueprints and otherworldly photographs in my drawers
beakers and tubes filled with dust
the cold makes it feel like home
and when the mirror talks to me, it only says
"I will wrap you in a sheet before this night is done."
well so says you, my sweet, but look what you've become
all my furniture, ghosts
rooms rife with other lives
no doors
my paintings are stolen from churches and are hanging backwards and are numbered one to infinity.

~ ~ ~

David Jonathan Newman has been a poet and vocalist/lyricist in bands, both on Long Island, NY and in Miami, FL.  He currently is working on a collection of poetry, writes music as a solo artist and has a blog (http://captainselfdestruct.blogspot.com) where he posts both his solid works and stream of consciousness ideas.  He's been winning poetry contests since 6th grade, and the poem above, "Hello, Atmosphere" won a writing contest at the SUNY College Of Old Westbury which was featured in Harmonia, their on-campus writing publication.

Thanks to David for sharing his tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Kimberly Mahler

Today's tattooed poet is Kimberly Mahler, who sent along this tattoo:

Kimberly credits this bright colorful work to artist Erik Rieth, co-owner of Seventh Son Tattoo in San Francisco. The poem below is an unpublished work she is including in a manuscript centered around her raising her 11-year old autistic son, seen in this photo with the tattoo above.

The poem relates to her getting her first tattoo:

Stigmata of Spring

In a room full of men I remove my shirt and lie down.

Feel but don’t meet their gaze.

The needle whirrs a little, a test.

Close my eyes and see mother working at the Singer

December afternoons before bartending nights,

tired of us looking thwarted and poor.

Smell my blood mix with ink and adrenaline.

Arousing to be the object of keen attention.

For hours I am a still nude.

As girls my friends and I would trace letters

on each other’s bare backs with our fingertips.

Excuse to give affection in our parentless homes.

I surrender to the electricity and his tender hands

that sketch and sew an iris and its purple vulva

into my back and blade.  No words. The needle’s hum

is a vow, drowning jerry-rigged lovers and son,

flogging my flaws and scars. To bear the sacred

and taboo: an iris ardent enough to flavor gin.

He cleans and bandages my back like a hurt child.

Instructions, a swirl of pride and empathy,

for now it’s mine to carry, heal, and love.

Eventually, the iris bleeds, crackles, shimmies out nubile,

my stigmata of spring.  It draws the hands of lovers

and my son, who puts his lips to it and whispers “tattoo.”

~ ~ ~

Kimberly included a small photo of the piece in question, as well:

She elaborates:

"The iris was my first tattoo completed in 2007. It was a one session--four hour odyssey of sorts. I had never seen someone get tattooed, and was pondering why Erik was using so much red ink for a purple flower... yep, that was my blood, not ink. Over the years Erik and I developed a friendship and continued work on my shoulder in 2008 and the cherries February 2011.

I know the next one is going to be a large hip/thigh sea dragon piece, but that's a ways off. 

For me to be ready to get a tattoo, three elements have to be in line: my artist Erik has to want and like the idea, I have to be ready (both financially and emotionally) and the time commitment and passion for the design have to be there. When all are in line, it's a magical sort of experience. I give him ideas, he designs the piece and then we get down to work. I couldn't have anyone else do my work now; it just wouldn't be the same. [...] He co-owns a shop in San Francisco that just did a benefit for Japan, raising $7,000. Cool place. http://www.seventhsontattoo.com. Erik and the shop Seven Son Tattoo are both also on Facebook. 

There's definitely a connection between tattooing and writing for me. This is the only poem that I've written that is about tattooing (at least on the surface). However, both writing and getting a tattoo require a leap of sorts: a stepping off of the known. Both require a loss of control which lay the foundation for original art both on the body and the page."

Thanks to Kimberly for sharing her tattoos, poetry and photos with us here on Tattoosday!

Kimberly Mahler’s recent work has appeared in, 5AM, DMQ Review, My Baby Rides the Short Bus anthology, Naugatuck River Review, The International Psychoanalysis Poetry Monday and Cimarron Review.  She recently received a residency at the Ragdale Foundation in Chicago. Kimberly has taught college-level writing and literature in the San Francisco Bay Area for 17 years and is the director of The International Poetry Library of San Francisco.  She lives on the coast, a few miles north Half Moon Bay, CA with her son Harrison.

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Kimberly Mahler

Today's tattooed poet is Kimberly Mahler, who sent along this tattoo:

Kimberly credits this bright colorful work to artist Erik Rieth, co-owner of Seventh Son Tattoo in San Francisco. The poem below is an unpublished work she is including in a manuscript centered around her raising her 11-year old autistic son, seen in this photo with the tattoo above.

The poem relates to her getting her first tattoo:

Stigmata of Spring

In a room full of men I remove my shirt and lie down.

Feel but don’t meet their gaze.

The needle whirrs a little, a test.

Close my eyes and see mother working at the Singer

December afternoons before bartending nights,

tired of us looking thwarted and poor.

Smell my blood mix with ink and adrenaline.

Arousing to be the object of keen attention.

For hours I am a still nude.

As girls my friends and I would trace letters

on each other’s bare backs with our fingertips.

Excuse to give affection in our parentless homes.

I surrender to the electricity and his tender hands

that sketch and sew an iris and its purple vulva

into my back and blade.  No words. The needle’s hum

is a vow, drowning jerry-rigged lovers and son,

flogging my flaws and scars. To bear the sacred

and taboo: an iris ardent enough to flavor gin.

He cleans and bandages my back like a hurt child.

Instructions, a swirl of pride and empathy,

for now it’s mine to carry, heal, and love.

Eventually, the iris bleeds, crackles, shimmies out nubile,

my stigmata of spring.  It draws the hands of lovers

and my son, who puts his lips to it and whispers “tattoo.”

~ ~ ~

Kimberly included a small photo of the piece in question, as well:

She elaborates:

"The iris was my first tattoo completed in 2007. It was a one session--four hour odyssey of sorts. I had never seen someone get tattooed, and was pondering why Erik was using so much red ink for a purple flower... yep, that was my blood, not ink. Over the years Erik and I developed a friendship and continued work on my shoulder in 2008 and the cherries February 2011.

I know the next one is going to be a large hip/thigh sea dragon piece, but that's a ways off. 

For me to be ready to get a tattoo, three elements have to be in line: my artist Erik has to want and like the idea, I have to be ready (both financially and emotionally) and the time commitment and passion for the design have to be there. When all are in line, it's a magical sort of experience. I give him ideas, he designs the piece and then we get down to work. I couldn't have anyone else do my work now; it just wouldn't be the same. [...] He co-owns a shop in San Francisco that just did a benefit for Japan, raising $7,000. Cool place. http://www.seventhsontattoo.com. Erik and the shop Seven Son Tattoo are both also on Facebook. 

There's definitely a connection between tattooing and writing for me. This is the only poem that I've written that is about tattooing (at least on the surface). However, both writing and getting a tattoo require a leap of sorts: a stepping off of the known. Both require a loss of control which lay the foundation for original art both on the body and the page."

Thanks to Kimberly for sharing her tattoos, poetry and photos with us here on Tattoosday!

Kimberly Mahler’s recent work has appeared in, 5AM, DMQ Review, My Baby Rides the Short Bus anthology, Naugatuck River Review, The International Psychoanalysis Poetry Monday and Cimarron Review.  She recently received a residency at the Ragdale Foundation in Chicago. Kimberly has taught college-level writing and literature in the San Francisco Bay Area for 17 years and is the director of The International Poetry Library of San Francisco.  She lives on the coast, a few miles north Half Moon Bay, CA with her son Harrison.

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Claire Nelson

Well, dear readers, I've been waiting to post this next tattoo for over a year, ever since Dorianne Laux posted it on her Facebook wall last April and directed me to it. This amazing tattoo belongs to Claire Nelson. Behold:

This photo was taken shortly after the tattoo was done by artist Ron Henry Wells, who graciously allowed me to copy it from his site and reprint it here. He noted that he "used a antique typewriter that [he owns] as reference". He was also swift to point out that the picture's not that great, as the curve of Claire's thigh makes the tattoo look a little warped, but he swears it is straight. I would beg to differ, as the photo really captures the beauty of the tattoo and the wonderful artifice of the tattooist.

Claire sent me a newer photo for a slightly different perspective:

 

Claire explains this incredible tattoo:

"I love writing, tattoos and typewriters. When I met with Ron at Anonymous Tattoo in Savannah, Georgia, he seemed as psyched about doing my tattoo as I was about getting it. Ron asked a few simple questions. “How do you feel about birds?” I felt good. “Flowers?” I also had positive feelings about flowers. And then, we were off. Two sessions and some intense pain later, I came out with this amazing tattoo. Writing will always be part of my life, and now so will this tattoo."

Claire also shared this poem: 

Kazoo Serenade

The last nice thing you said to me

was “Your breath smells
like vodka,”

as I hummed at you

through a kazoo.
It was an

original composition;

maybe not

technically perfect—

I wasn’t concerned

with mechanics.
Who needs rules

when there are kazoos in the world?

I did an accompanying jig

on a cracked patch

of sidewalk.

Why is cement

always damp
on summer nights? It made such a

satisfying smack

against my bare-feet,

cool and wet,

like the familiar kiss

of a person I rarely see.

I could have danced circles around you

all night

until we were both too dizzy to know

melody from moment,

beauty from spit and plastic.

Instead, I unbuttoned
the pocket

on your shirt, and slipped the kazoo inside.

I don’t need retrospect

to tell me

you don’t deserve

a kazoo serenade. Oh I wish

it was about deserve

and not desire. 

~ ~ ~

Claire Nelson is a senior Dramatic Writing major at Savannah College of Art and Design in Savannah, Georgia. After graduation Claire will be moving to Tallahassee to pursue her M.F.A. in poetry at Florida State University.

As for Ron, he is currently working out of the Boston area, but occasionally is a guest artist at Three Kings Tattoo in Brooklyn.

Thanks to Claire for sharing one of the best tattoos we have seen in this year's Tattooed Poets Project, and for sharing her poetry as well, here on Tattoosday.

This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday. The poem is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com/ and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.